Other Worlds [Part 5]
Apr. 5th, 2009 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ante_luceTitle: Other Worlds [Part 5]
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
As he continued with his day, Jazz found his thoughts returning to the previous night. He didn’t know (or perhaps he did, but saying he didn’t know was easier) why he was so fixated on the event. It wasn’t like he’d ever said anything to Prowl (Primus knew, for such an observant mech, sometimes the Datsun could be a little obtuse when it came to these things). And bots could take whoever they wanted to their berths (or desks, as the case may be, his traitorous CPU helpfully supplied).
But Prowl didn’t seem the sort for casual interface. The mech was intensely private, to the extent where he appeared to be without feelings, an impression not helped by the fact that he kept up a strictly professional manner when doing his job (and frag, when was Prowl not working?), especially around anyone not in a select circle (and Jazz was rather proud of the fact that he was included in that circle). That was not to say the SIC could never be pushed too far, as Sentinel had clearly found out.
But, the Porsche admitted, the other Jazz had been right. The blue mech had been more subdued after Prowl chewed him out.
= = =
There was a knock on his door, the sound almost hesitant, and Optimus Prime called for whoever it was to enter. His barely hidden surprise was acknowledged by a wince from the mech who entered. After an awkward moment of silence, the Autobot leader addressed the mech.
“Good day, Sentinel. What do I owe this visit?”
“… Do you have a free moment, sir?”
“I have nothing pressing. Did you need something?”
“I… wanted to apologise. For my behaviour.”
Optimus didn’t manage to suppress his startled look this time, and Sentinel visibly cringed. After another awkward silence, the red and blue Autobot motioned for Sentinel to sit down. The mech settled uneasily in front of the Prime’s desk, staring at his hands for a moment. Then, looking resolutely into Optimus’s optics, he began to speak.
= = =
“Right, that’s enough. Clear out and let them have their privacy.”
“Aw, Rodimus, you can’t! Do you have any idea how long we’ve waited to see old asteroid chin eat crow?”
The brightly coloured mech glared at the Elite Guard twins and his team. “I can and I will. I am still a Prime amongst our group, and you are still mechs under my command. I can’t order the Ark bots around, but I can make sure you lot at least leave Sentinel some dignity. Now, out of the monitor room.”
“I agree. Hot Rod, Sideswipe, please leave as well.” The two mechs made to protest, but Red Alert silenced them with a look. “And let me remind you, in case your processors are unable to recall it, hacking the feeds will make me very unhappy, because I’ll have to go and make Prowl unhappy. And we don’t want that right now, do we?”
Cowed, they nodded and left. As the monitor room cleared of all but the security director and Rodimus, the Lamborghini turned to the bow wielding mech with a respectful nod, then took a seat before the monitor banks.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to leave too?”
“I didn’t think you’d need to be asked. You can stay if you want.” Red Alert replied, matter of factly, not looking away from his monitors, and Rodimus smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go keep an optic on my crew.”
“Good luck with that. They’re headed on the direction of the rec. room.” The security director sounded almost amused, and the other mech sighed in resignation.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”
= = =
Rodimus found his mechs with Hot Rod and Sideswipe, complaining about being kicked out. Sighing again, he interrupted the grudge fest with a dry comment.
“Oh, mute your vocalisers. You were out of bounds and you know it. Personality matrix defects regardless, Sentinel-”
A laugh drew his attention, and he couldn’t remember what he was going to say next. A femme sat next to Hod Rod, hiding a smile behind a hand as she jabbed the flame patterned mech in the side.
“I have to agree with him, you know.”
“You’d agree with Sentinel if it meant you’d get one up on me.” Groused Hot Rod, and the pink femme smacked the mech upside the head. “Oh, give me some credit. I have standards. Now introduce me, bolt head.”
“Right, Rodimus, this is Arcee. She’s been out on a mission and just got back. Arcee, Rodimus Prime. He’s one of the bots who landed here from that other dimension thing.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Arcee.” Rodimus inclined his head in a short bow, and the femme stood, coming closer as his intakes forgot to continue functioning. She circled him, smiling. “Likewise. You look a lot like the bolt head, are you his alternate version?”
He blinked, gathering his scattered processors (‘Hide and the twins were smirking at him, slaggers) as he tried for a diplomatic answer (Hot Rod was glaring). “I… can’t say for certain.”
“I think you are.” She nodded, glancing back at the frowning Hot Rod with a sly grin. “I like this version of you. Capable, mature, responsible… And he’s got a nicer aft too.”
“Arcee!” Hot Rod exclaimed as Rodimus sputtered, drawing laughter from their audience. The femme laughed as well, then turned to Rodimus once more. “I have to go report in officially. Maybe we can get some energon later? I’d like to see how else you differ from Hot Rod.”
“Yeah, okay.” The mech managed, and she smiled brightly and sauntered away. He stared, then broke it off to glare at his comrades as they fell about in hysterics once more.
= = =
Rodimus had expected it, from the way Hot Rod had been growling while Arcee had flirted with him. But he didn’t expect to be yanked aside by the collar struts and questioned as to his intentions with the femme immediately after she’d left.
“Ow, slaggit, let go!”
“Not until you answer me. What are you planning with Arcee?”
“Nothing! Why are you so worked up about it?!” The mech let him go, looking away with a scowl. “… She’s my friend. And I’m not about to just let some fragger from out of nowhere mess with her!”
“Look, eventually, the science team will figure out a way for us to get back, and I’ll be leaving with everyone. I have a responsibility to them and my home, and I’m not about to just throw that aside! So lay off, I’m not going to start something Arcee, or with anyone else here. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”
Hot Rod had looked at him, gaze searching, then nodded, backing off. Rodimus’s team did the same, and as a sort of peace offering, asked. “Look, why don’t you join us later?”
“Nah. Arcee would just accuse me of being an overprotective glitch who’s cramping her style. Besides, I trust you’ll keep your word.” Hot Rod smiled at last, and Rodimus rubbed a hand across his tender neck cables, chuckling in agreement.
“I thought you’d hate me.”
“How can I? You’re me, at least, a version of me. And I can admit you’re a better mech than I am right now.” Hot Rod’s gaze sharpened, and Rodimus felt something inside him approve of the challenging look in the mech’s optics. “But that just means I’ve got the same sort of potential. And I’ll make Arcee see that, just you wait.”
= = =
Ultra Magnus sighed, watching the Ark mechs go about their duties. Things were very different here. Optimus Prime was the most startling change, but in retrospect he could see the qualities the young Prime in his dimension shared with this one.
Observing the way this Prime led his mechs, how he had their absolute loyalty and esteem, the Autobot Supreme Commander wondered if this was how Optimus Prime could have been, given the support and respect this version of him obviously had received (a faint tinge of guilt niggled at him at that).
He would have to look into it once they returned to their proper reality.
Another surprise had been running into Rodimus and that pink femme. The young Prime had looked out of his depth, as if unsure if he should be so pleased to be in her company. Ultra Magnus had been caught off guard by the femme’s name, as well as her query as to whether he knew if there was an Arcee in his world. He paused, wondering what answer to give when Rodimus prompted him, optics strangely hopeful.
“… I know an Arcee. She was an information runner, smart, brave and dedicated to the cause.” He said at last. They picked up on his hesitance. Rodimus quietly asked. “Ultra Magnus, sir? You said she ‘was’. Is she…?”
“She wasn’t deactivated.” The blue and white mech allowed. “But she took some heavy damage during the Great War. She’s still recovering, and when we left, the probability of her completely returning to her previous state was unknown.”
“I see.” The femme took Rodimus’s hand and squeezed it, and the mech gave her a reassuring smile. Ultra Magnus watched them, then cleared his vocaliser. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get to a meeting. Stay out of trouble, Rodimus.”
“Yes sir.” The younger mech saluted him, and he left, lengthening his stride. Wouldn’t do to be late, after all.
'Verse: G1 Transformers with a little TF:A
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
As he continued with his day, Jazz found his thoughts returning to the previous night. He didn’t know (or perhaps he did, but saying he didn’t know was easier) why he was so fixated on the event. It wasn’t like he’d ever said anything to Prowl (Primus knew, for such an observant mech, sometimes the Datsun could be a little obtuse when it came to these things). And bots could take whoever they wanted to their berths (or desks, as the case may be, his traitorous CPU helpfully supplied).
But Prowl didn’t seem the sort for casual interface. The mech was intensely private, to the extent where he appeared to be without feelings, an impression not helped by the fact that he kept up a strictly professional manner when doing his job (and frag, when was Prowl not working?), especially around anyone not in a select circle (and Jazz was rather proud of the fact that he was included in that circle). That was not to say the SIC could never be pushed too far, as Sentinel had clearly found out.
But, the Porsche admitted, the other Jazz had been right. The blue mech had been more subdued after Prowl chewed him out.
= = =
There was a knock on his door, the sound almost hesitant, and Optimus Prime called for whoever it was to enter. His barely hidden surprise was acknowledged by a wince from the mech who entered. After an awkward moment of silence, the Autobot leader addressed the mech.
“Good day, Sentinel. What do I owe this visit?”
“… Do you have a free moment, sir?”
“I have nothing pressing. Did you need something?”
“I… wanted to apologise. For my behaviour.”
Optimus didn’t manage to suppress his startled look this time, and Sentinel visibly cringed. After another awkward silence, the red and blue Autobot motioned for Sentinel to sit down. The mech settled uneasily in front of the Prime’s desk, staring at his hands for a moment. Then, looking resolutely into Optimus’s optics, he began to speak.
= = =
“Right, that’s enough. Clear out and let them have their privacy.”
“Aw, Rodimus, you can’t! Do you have any idea how long we’ve waited to see old asteroid chin eat crow?”
The brightly coloured mech glared at the Elite Guard twins and his team. “I can and I will. I am still a Prime amongst our group, and you are still mechs under my command. I can’t order the Ark bots around, but I can make sure you lot at least leave Sentinel some dignity. Now, out of the monitor room.”
“I agree. Hot Rod, Sideswipe, please leave as well.” The two mechs made to protest, but Red Alert silenced them with a look. “And let me remind you, in case your processors are unable to recall it, hacking the feeds will make me very unhappy, because I’ll have to go and make Prowl unhappy. And we don’t want that right now, do we?”
Cowed, they nodded and left. As the monitor room cleared of all but the security director and Rodimus, the Lamborghini turned to the bow wielding mech with a respectful nod, then took a seat before the monitor banks.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to leave too?”
“I didn’t think you’d need to be asked. You can stay if you want.” Red Alert replied, matter of factly, not looking away from his monitors, and Rodimus smiled. “Thanks, but I think I’ll go keep an optic on my crew.”
“Good luck with that. They’re headed on the direction of the rec. room.” The security director sounded almost amused, and the other mech sighed in resignation.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”
= = =
Rodimus found his mechs with Hot Rod and Sideswipe, complaining about being kicked out. Sighing again, he interrupted the grudge fest with a dry comment.
“Oh, mute your vocalisers. You were out of bounds and you know it. Personality matrix defects regardless, Sentinel-”
A laugh drew his attention, and he couldn’t remember what he was going to say next. A femme sat next to Hod Rod, hiding a smile behind a hand as she jabbed the flame patterned mech in the side.
“I have to agree with him, you know.”
“You’d agree with Sentinel if it meant you’d get one up on me.” Groused Hot Rod, and the pink femme smacked the mech upside the head. “Oh, give me some credit. I have standards. Now introduce me, bolt head.”
“Right, Rodimus, this is Arcee. She’s been out on a mission and just got back. Arcee, Rodimus Prime. He’s one of the bots who landed here from that other dimension thing.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Arcee.” Rodimus inclined his head in a short bow, and the femme stood, coming closer as his intakes forgot to continue functioning. She circled him, smiling. “Likewise. You look a lot like the bolt head, are you his alternate version?”
He blinked, gathering his scattered processors (‘Hide and the twins were smirking at him, slaggers) as he tried for a diplomatic answer (Hot Rod was glaring). “I… can’t say for certain.”
“I think you are.” She nodded, glancing back at the frowning Hot Rod with a sly grin. “I like this version of you. Capable, mature, responsible… And he’s got a nicer aft too.”
“Arcee!” Hot Rod exclaimed as Rodimus sputtered, drawing laughter from their audience. The femme laughed as well, then turned to Rodimus once more. “I have to go report in officially. Maybe we can get some energon later? I’d like to see how else you differ from Hot Rod.”
“Yeah, okay.” The mech managed, and she smiled brightly and sauntered away. He stared, then broke it off to glare at his comrades as they fell about in hysterics once more.
= = =
Rodimus had expected it, from the way Hot Rod had been growling while Arcee had flirted with him. But he didn’t expect to be yanked aside by the collar struts and questioned as to his intentions with the femme immediately after she’d left.
“Ow, slaggit, let go!”
“Not until you answer me. What are you planning with Arcee?”
“Nothing! Why are you so worked up about it?!” The mech let him go, looking away with a scowl. “… She’s my friend. And I’m not about to just let some fragger from out of nowhere mess with her!”
“Look, eventually, the science team will figure out a way for us to get back, and I’ll be leaving with everyone. I have a responsibility to them and my home, and I’m not about to just throw that aside! So lay off, I’m not going to start something Arcee, or with anyone else here. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”
Hot Rod had looked at him, gaze searching, then nodded, backing off. Rodimus’s team did the same, and as a sort of peace offering, asked. “Look, why don’t you join us later?”
“Nah. Arcee would just accuse me of being an overprotective glitch who’s cramping her style. Besides, I trust you’ll keep your word.” Hot Rod smiled at last, and Rodimus rubbed a hand across his tender neck cables, chuckling in agreement.
“I thought you’d hate me.”
“How can I? You’re me, at least, a version of me. And I can admit you’re a better mech than I am right now.” Hot Rod’s gaze sharpened, and Rodimus felt something inside him approve of the challenging look in the mech’s optics. “But that just means I’ve got the same sort of potential. And I’ll make Arcee see that, just you wait.”
= = =
Ultra Magnus sighed, watching the Ark mechs go about their duties. Things were very different here. Optimus Prime was the most startling change, but in retrospect he could see the qualities the young Prime in his dimension shared with this one.
Observing the way this Prime led his mechs, how he had their absolute loyalty and esteem, the Autobot Supreme Commander wondered if this was how Optimus Prime could have been, given the support and respect this version of him obviously had received (a faint tinge of guilt niggled at him at that).
He would have to look into it once they returned to their proper reality.
Another surprise had been running into Rodimus and that pink femme. The young Prime had looked out of his depth, as if unsure if he should be so pleased to be in her company. Ultra Magnus had been caught off guard by the femme’s name, as well as her query as to whether he knew if there was an Arcee in his world. He paused, wondering what answer to give when Rodimus prompted him, optics strangely hopeful.
“… I know an Arcee. She was an information runner, smart, brave and dedicated to the cause.” He said at last. They picked up on his hesitance. Rodimus quietly asked. “Ultra Magnus, sir? You said she ‘was’. Is she…?”
“She wasn’t deactivated.” The blue and white mech allowed. “But she took some heavy damage during the Great War. She’s still recovering, and when we left, the probability of her completely returning to her previous state was unknown.”
“I see.” The femme took Rodimus’s hand and squeezed it, and the mech gave her a reassuring smile. Ultra Magnus watched them, then cleared his vocaliser. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get to a meeting. Stay out of trouble, Rodimus.”
“Yes sir.” The younger mech saluted him, and he left, lengthening his stride. Wouldn’t do to be late, after all.
